


stare down demons, come back breathing

by Quintessence



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Canonical Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Nightmares, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sharing a Bed, buckle up it's gonna be non stop softness, we've reached the capacity on tenderness here folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-10-12 03:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessence/pseuds/Quintessence
Summary: “But that’s not the point.  The point is that some really terrible things happened to you.  And you can call it training to try to justify it, but it doesn’t change anything.  It doesn’t change the fact that you were poisoned and tortured with electricity and God knows what else and you were achild, Killua.  You were just a kid.  So what I’m trying to say is that if after all that happened you’re still you, you’re still brave and kind and good, you’re not cruel or violent or horribly twisted, and the only way it affects you is that you have some nightmares about it, then it just proves what I’ve always known.  That you’re the strongest and most exceptional person I’ve ever met. And that’s why you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed about.”In which Gon proposes a simple solution to Killua's nightmares.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just going to continue writing the most absolutely self indulgent fics of these two & there is no force in heaven or on earth that can stop me.
> 
> eventually i'm going to run out of mountain goats lyrics to use as titles & it's gonna be a dark day for me. this one's from "you were cool"
> 
> no planned update schedule but pls know i work as fast as i can.
> 
> also fair warning that while there is no onscreen violence, there is extremely heavily implied off-screen violence. if that's not your cup of tea, i won't be hurt if you pass this one over.
> 
> alright, hope you enjoy!!!

At first, Gon tries to ignore it. The nightmares, he means.

The first time Gon awakens a bit past three to Killua tossing and crying out in his sleep, he doesn’t rush to his side. And when Killua jolts awake, gasping and panting, Gon keeps his eyes shut and pretends not to hear. And when he’s met with the unmistakable muffled sound of Killua crying, outright sobbing, as quietly as he can manage, Gon clenches his fists tight and doesn’t so much as ask if Killua’s okay.

It’s always Gon’s first instinct, to soothe and reassure. To see something in pain and want to ease its suffering. But Killua is different. Killua hates being doted on and fussed over. Killua grew up without anyone to go to after a nightmare, without anyone to go to for anything, really, and that’s probably why he always bristles at Gon’s attempts to comfort him. So Gon restrains himself. He doesn’t want to embarrass Killua, doesn’t want to do anything that would compromise Killua’s trust in him. Instead, he breathes slowly in an effort to feign sleep and stays turned towards the wall and listens to Killua cry for far longer than Gon thinks anyone should.

And the next morning, when Gon finds Killua in the kitchen of their temporary apartment looking pale and wan and haunted, he doesn’t say anything. When Killua’s voice sounds thinner and reedier when he suggests they go on an endurance run for training, Gon bites his tongue. When Killua actually falls behind Gon in the run for once, weak and exhausted, Gon merely surreptitiously slows his pace without acknowledging it.

Because Gon knows Killua. He knows if he tries to broach the subject, Killua will stiffen and go cold and distant and dismiss Gon’s inquiry with a quick, derisive comment. And after all that, nothing will change except Killua endeavoring to cry more quietly the next time it happens, which Gon really isn’t sure he could bear. So while it goes against his every instinct, against his very nature, Gon stays quiet.

He tells himself it’s better this way. Killua will come to Gon if he needs anything. But it’s like when he would befriend a wild animal in the forest on Whale Island--chasing after the creature would only frighten it, and then any attempt thereafter to gain its trust was sure to fail. Better to let it come to him, slowly approach and sniff his outstretched hand and decide for itself, Better not to force things. Better to wait.

It becomes Gon’s mantra. “Better to wait.” The next time Killua wakes up and begins sobbing. “Better to wait.” And the next. “Better to wait.” As the nightmares become more frequent, as Killua cries alone in the darkness more nights than not, as he grows even paler and his eyes become dull and sunken and his voice becomes hoarse with exhaustion. “Better to wait.”

So Gon waits. And waits. Until he finally can’t any longer.

It’s the retching that does it.

Tonight Killua’s dreams are worse than usual. Rather than mere incoherent, distressed mumbling and cries, Killua’s speaking quite distinctly. He’s saying things. Awful things. Things like “stop” and “please don’t” and “it hurts” and “please, not any more, please, I can’t, I can’t, please.” And Gon lies in bed, facing the wall as usual, clenching his fists and resolving not to say anything. “Better to wait.” Better to let Killua plead desperately to some cruel and brutal force. Better to let Killua handle whatever awful nightmares are plaguing him alone. Better to wait. Better to wait.

Until Killua wakes up and doubles over, arms wrapped around his middle, and starts to gag.

And finally Gon simply can’t any longer. He can’t lie there and listen to Killua gasping for air between heaves. Yes, perhaps Killua will be angry and indignant, but it’s no longer patience, ignoring Killua’s nightmares. It’s just neglect.

So Gon gets out of bed and approaches Killua’s bed slowly, and he keeps his voice low and even when he talks to him.

“Hey, it’s just me, alright? It’s just me. Can I come over to you?”

Killua looks up at Gon, pupils blown wide with fear and hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. For a long moment he merely stares, Gon not quite sure what it is he’s seeing until, at last, he nods. So Gon approaches, keeps his movements slow and predictable, and comes to sit beside Killua.

Slowly, giving Killua every chance to tell him to stop, Gon rests a hand on Killua’s back. It’s cold and wet with sweat, but Gon doesn’t care. He starts to rub slow, gentle circles through the thin fabric of Killua’s t-shirt. Killua shudders, actually shudders, and then his whole body relaxes and at last he gets a good breath. Gon takes it as a sign to continue, so he wraps an arm around Killua’s shoulders and pulls him close, guiding Killua to rest his head on Gon’s chest. Killua wraps his arms around Gon’s waist and clings to him, shaking violently, and Gon holds him tighter and starts murmuring reassurances.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here. You’re safe. It’s no one here but you and me. Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you, okay? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s the same few soothing phrases, repeated unceasingly as Killua shakes in Gon’s arms and Gon t-shirt grows wet with tears. Just the same reassurances, over and over, until Killua’s breathing slows to a normal pace and he the trembling finally subsides. Once he’s calm, Gon keeps holding Killua for a few long moments, grateful Killua hasn’t shoved him away and started shouting at him for making such a fuss.

“It sounded pretty bad,” Gon says softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Killua replies, voice scratchy with tears. He rubs roughly at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Okay. Do you want to try to get back to sleep?”

Killua sighs.

“Not really sure that I can. I usually can’t, afterwards.”

Gon’s heart breaks just a bit. He’d always assumed Killua had fallen back asleep eventually. Instead, he must’ve lain awake for hours, haunted by whatever memories had resurfaced in his dreams, alone and frightened with no one to comfort him. It’s becoming clearer by the moment that Gon waited far too long to say anything. But there isn’t anything to do now but try to make up for lost time.

“I have an idea of something that might help,” Gon offers. “Lie down, okay? On your stomach.”

Killua hesitates for a moment but complies, lying down and folding his arms under his pillow. Carefully, Gon rests his hand on Killua’s back and begins dragging fingertips feather-light along Killua’s spine. Killua shivers, just barely perceptible.

“What’re you doing?” Killua murmurs.

“It’s just something Aunt Mito would do for me when I was a kid and had a bad dream. It always helped me relax again. Is it okay?”

“I guess it’s fine,” Killua replies, the tension quite visibly easing from his body. Gon smiles. So much for his attempt at indifference.

They don’t often touch each other. Gon hadn’t really given it much thought, how he throws himself into Leorio’s arms or kisses Mito on the cheek or hugs Alluka, but how rarely he and Killua ever touch. He’d always assumed Killua just didn’t like that sort of thing. But that notion is seeming less and less likely as Killua practically sinks into the mattress as Gon strokes his back. He does like it. Quite a lot, actually. Maybe he just never knew how to ask for it, or didn’t think he had the right to it, or assumed Gon wouldn’t want to. Gon can’t imagine he grew up with much affection, not given what he knows about Killua’s family. Maybe he wants it, desperately, and simply won’t permit himself to ask. Gon will just have to try, then. Try to embrace him like he did tonight, or take his hand to lead him somewhere, or just rest a hand on his knee. Try to show Killua people can touch him without meaning for it to hurt.

Killua’s breathing has become slow and even. He fell asleep, and Gon tries not to be too thrilled about it. Gon sits there for several more minutes, continuing to stroke his back slowly and watch over him, reveling in the steady, relaxed rise and fall of his ribcage, in finally being able to help, before reluctantly returning to his own bed and falling asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Gon hadn’t given any thought to how things might look in the light of day, and perhaps he should have. Because Killua slinks into the kitchen that morning like a kicked dog, mumbling a brief “good morning” to Gon and refusing to meet his eyes. Gon can practically see the shame weighing down Killua’s limbs as he pours himself a bowl of cereal. He moves so sluggishly and hesitantly, so clearly disgusted with himself, and Gon simply won’t stand for it.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Gon says, because he never really knows what to say except exactly what he means.

Killua whips around to look at Gon, jaw clenched and eyes bright with something Gon can’t quite place.

“I’m not embarrassed,” Killua snaps. It’s an improvement. Gon would rather Killua be angry at Gon than with himself.

“Yeah, you are. And I’m telling you that you don’t have to be.”

Killua turns back around to pour the milk into his cereal, ignoring Gon entirely.

“I’m not just going to let you avoid talking about this with me,” Gon says. “What happened last night, it doesn’t make me think any less of you. I’ve always thought you’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met, and that hasn’t changed at all. I know we don’t really talk about your past, but I’m not stupid. You don’t end up immune to poison and electricity by age twelve without some really awful things happening to you when you’re really young.”

“Gon, you need to shut up.” Killua’s voice is low and threatening and Gon is not deterred in the slightest.

“Sorry, not happening. Like I was saying, we don’t really talk about when you were a kid. And that’s probably my fault. I guess I just didn’t want to dwell on it, on bad things happening to you. But I should have. I should have asked and I should have listened. And I should have gone to you two months ago when those nightmares started, but I didn’t. And I’m sorry.”

Killua is still facing away from Gon, so Gon can’t see his face, but his shoulders raise quite visibly.

“You knew?” he says, voice soft but otherwise unreadable. “Since it started?”

“Yeah, I did. And I didn’t say anything and that was wrong of me. It wasn't that I didn't care. I just assumed something like this was going to happen, that you were going to feel weird about it and shut me out, and so I thought that saying something was only going to make things worse. But it doesn’t change the fact that I just let you suffer for two months and didn’t do anything about it. So if anyone should be feeling bad right now, it should be me.”

Killua keeps his back to Gon and says nothing.

“But that’s not the point. The point is that some really terrible things happened to you. And you can call it training to try to justify it, but it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the fact that you were poisoned and tortured with electricity and God knows what else and you were a _ child, _ Killua_. _You were just a kid. So what I’m trying to say is that if after all that happened you’re still you, you’re still brave and kind and good, you’re not cruel or violent or horribly twisted, and the only way it affects you is that you have some nightmares about it, then it just proves what I’ve always known. That you’re the strongest and most exceptional person I’ve ever met. And that’s why you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed about.”

Killua still doesn’t turn around. He just stays, not moving or speaking. And Gon waits. The clock in the kitchen ticks steadily. Twenty seconds. Now thirty. Forty.

“You, uh, you don’t have to feel bad either,” Killua says at last. “Last night. You. You helped.”

It’s not quite a victory, not yet. But it’s progress.

“I’m glad. I want to help. I never want you to suffer alone.”

Slowly, Killua returns the milk to the fridge, takes his bowl, and sits at the table opposite Gon. He stares deliberately out the window and takes a bite of cereal.

“Do you want to tell me what they were doing last night?” Gon asks.

Killua shakes his head.

“It’s not really worth getting into.”

“But it was bad, right?”

Killua sighs and chews his bottom lip, still refusing to meet Gon’s eyes.

“Sure, yeah, whatever. I guess it was ‘bad.’”

Gon knows what he wants to say next. It feels like when he was a child, working up the courage to jump into the ocean in the winter. That pounding of his heart, that tension in his limbs, that hollowness in his insides. The water sits, grey-blue and choppy and freezing. And Gon breathes deeply and clenches his fists and jumps.

“I think I should sleep with you from now on.”

Killua turns his head sharply, finally looking at Gon, eyes widening and face going abruptly red.

“_ What?” _

“Your bed is big enough for the two of us. So I think you’d sleep better if I was with you. I’m not just gonna keep letting this go on, Killua. I’m not going to let any more bad things happen to you, not now that I can actually do something about. Okay? I’m just not.”

Killua stares down at his cereal and swirls the milk with his spoon. The air quivers and the hairs on the back of Gon’s neck raise like before a bad storm. Killua scoops up a spoonful of milk and lets it pour back into the bowl, the splash almost impossibly loud. Gon clenches his fists. The clouds gather on the horizon. The sky darkens. The rain begins to fall. And finally, lightning strikes.

“Whatever, Gon. If that’s what it’s gonna take to get you to shut up about this, then fine.”

Gon can’t permit himself to smile. He can’t permit himself to take Killua’s hand in his own and swear he’ll protect him, from here to the very ends of the earth. So Gon keeps his expression entirely neutral and his tone largely indifferent.

“Alright,” he says, voice betraying no emotion. “Glad that’s settled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> killua: /has nightmares/  
gon, seeing the space in bed next to him: "it's free real estate"
> 
> no obligation to comment, but they make my day & i reply to each one!!!
> 
> you can come yell at me to write faster on [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/) (i'm kidding pls don't yell at me if u do i will cry)
> 
> hope to have more out soon!!!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!! thank you for your patience as i've gotten ch 2 out!!! and thank you for the lovely comments on ch 1--y'all are always so encouraging and it makes writing such a joy :) please enjoy this next ch!!!!!

On second thought, perhaps Gon’s proposal was a bad idea.

Gon’s made his peace with his feelings with Killua. For the most part, at least. He’s accepted that he’s loved Killua for five years now, for so long he no longer really remembers what it felt like not to love him. And he’s accepted that Killua’s never shown the slightest interest, that Killua is truly exceptional and Gon is wholly ordinary and so he can’t really be surprised that his feelings aren’t reciprocated. So he merely enjoys what they do have together. Killua’s friendship is the greatest gift Gon’s ever received; it’s the farthest thing from a consolation prize he can imagine. It’s enough. More than enough. And so Gon quite firmly pushes the longing and desperation out of his mind and accepts things as they are. For the most part.

But it’s moments like these when Gon’s control begins to slip. Moments like Killua emerging from the bathroom, soft and clean in a baggy, faded t-shirt. Like the drop of water that falls from his damp hair onto his collarbone and traces an utterly mesmerizing path towards his throat. Like Gon perched on Killua’s bed and Killua hesitating before sitting beside him. Like Gon and Killua, now inches apart, the warmth from the hot water radiating off of him and the scent of his shampoo, sweet and fresh, and the t-shirt slipping off his shoulder slightly, revealing a few extra inches of skin to which Gon could press his lips so gently and Killua could gasp and Gon could smile against his shoulder and Killua could feel it and smile too.

“So, um, how are we doing this?” Killua asks, staring at the carpet.

Gon breaks from his reverie. Like he’d thought--it’s a terrible idea.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it very much,” Gon admits. “Do you, I don’t know, want me to hold you?”

Killua’s eyes go wide.

“No!” he all but shouts, and Gon’s heart sinks, because of course he doesn’t want anything like that. Of course the very idea repels him.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Killua continues, less forcefully. “I just don’t want to make this any weirder than it already is.”

“That’s cool,” Gon says, forcing brightness. “Then I’ll just be right here in case you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Gon pulls back the blanket and slips underneath. Killua hesitates for a moment and then does the same. Gon’s heart leaps into his throat at that, at Killua lying next to him under the covers. For just a moment, he permits himself to imagine it’s real, that they do this every night, that they kiss each other before falling asleep.

“Well, um, good night, I guess,” Killua says and turns off the lamp on the table beside them.

And then they’re together, lying in bed in the dark and Gon can hear Killua breathe and smell his shampoo and feel it as Killua turns over onto his stomach. Killua, so close Gon could reach out and touch him. Would his skin feel as soft and delicate as it looks? Would Killua’s long, dark eyelashes graze Gon’s hand if he reached out to stroke his cheekbone? Would he shiver if Gon ran his fingers through the slightly outgrown hair on the back of his neck? Would he shove Gon away in mock annoyance if Gon pressed a kiss to his forehead but smile fondly all the same? Would he like it if Gon laced their fingers together and gently stroked the back of his hand with his thumb? Would he? Would he? Would he?

It’s well over an hour before Gon finally falls asleep.

* * *

At first, Gon isn’t sure what wakes him up. It’s a high-pitched whining noise, but he can’t place the source. Consciousness comes to him slowly and fuzzily, like playing over a TV with static, before hitting him abruptly. Killua, the nightmares, the arrangement--it all floods him at once. They’re in bed together, the clock says it’s a bit past four, there’s just the slightest rays of grey morning light beginning to filter in through the blinds. And the source of the noise becomes clear, because of course it could only be one thing--Killua tossing and whimpering in his sleep, brow furrowed and fists clenching the sheets, clearly caught in the throes of some awful dream.

Gon really should have read up on what to do about nightmares. Is he supposed to wake Killua up, or would that only make things worse? The last thing Gon wants to do is to startle him, make him even more frightened and disoriented. He doesn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if he caused Killua any more pain. But as Killua’s whimpering becomes more distressed, as the sweat beings to bead on his forehead, Gon makes up his mind. He can’t just let Killua suffer alone in his dreams, can’t let it reach the point of gagging like last night. He left Killua alone for two months, and he’ll be damned if he does it again.

“Killua?” Gon says softly. Killua stirs slightly, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Killua, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

Still nothing. Gon tries again, louder this time.

“Killua, it’s Gon. Wake up. Just wake up. Killua!”

Finally, Killua jolts awake. His eyes have the panicked, desperate look of a cornered animal and his chest heaves up and down with ragged breaths.

“Killua?” Gon tries.

Killua jumps, retreating to the far side of his bed, ducking his chin, and throwing up his hands to cover his face. And it kills Gon, Killua flinching like that. Killua, one of the most skilled assassins in the world, an exceptional Nen user, with more power in his little finger than most people have their whole lives, not even thinking to attack. So frightened he doesn’t even remember his training, so frightened he’s reduced solely to the base instinct to flee.

“Hey, Killua, it’s just me.” Gon keeps his tone even and calming, like he used to when he’d tend to injured animals. Steady and soothing. An anchor, or at least he hopes.

“Gon?” Killua tries, his voice cracking slightly.

“Yeah, it’s just me,” Gon replies. “You’re okay. You’re in our apartment. It’s only us. Okay?”

Killua exhales shakily.

“Yeah, okay.”

Gon wishes he were better with tact and sensitivity, wishes he had that elusive ability to be subtle and delicate in what he says. But that’s never been his strength. So he barrels forward headfirst, just like he always has.

“Should I touch you? I know it helped last time.”

“Yes,” Killua says, without a moment’s hesitation, and that makes it all the worse. Killua’s so frightened he doesn’t even have it in him to feign indifference and aloofness, won’t even go through the charade of refusing and having Gon insist. He’s too desperate for that.

So Gon lies on his back and motions for Killua to come close, and Killua hardly hesitates before laying his head on Gon’s chest and curling up against his side. Gon reaches up and wraps and arm around Killua’s shoulders and pulls him close. He can feel Killua trembling and holds him tighter.

Over the years, Gon’s grown quite a bit. He’s become far broader and taller, his body filling out to truly reflect his strength. Killua, in contrast, has stayed slender and nimble. He’s likely stronger than Gon, if Gon were forced to admit it, but his body is like that of a dancer. Powerful, of course, but with an appearance of delicateness. It suits the way he fights, staying small and quick and flexible.

But right now, Gon isn’t thinking about how acrobatically Killua can attack or how fast he can dodge. All he can think is that Killua’s small, lithe body in his arms feels indescribably perfect. He’s so warm and so solid and so close and Gon wants to wrap around him even more, hold him closer, closer still, keep Killua lying with him forever. It’s chaste and it’s so simple and yet Gon can hardly breathe from it, from how Killua in his arms is the best thing he’s ever felt by far.

Gon can’t stop himself, not with Killua’s hair tickling his throat and his body pressed so close to Gon’s side, and so he gently strokes Killua’s arm, fingers just grazing his skin. Killua sighs and it gives Gon a slight but undeniable thrill, doing something Killua likes. Emboldened, Gon makes his next stroke longer, and his fingertips hit a patch of rough, uneven skin. Scar tissue.

It’s not that Gon hasn’t noticed Killua’s scars before. It would be hard not to, given how many he has and how starkly that stand out, silvery-pink, against his pale skin. It’s more that Gon has quite deliberately tried to avoid noticing them. He never let himself really dwell on it, really acknowledge that each one was acquired through some instance of violence. He’d seen without really seeing, without truly looking.

But given the nightmares and Killua in his arms and Gon’s fingers trailing over the scars littering the upper part of his arm, Gon finally can’t ignore it any longer. And besides, they’re lying together in the dark. The rules are different. In the dark, these sorts of conversations are allowed.

“You have a lot of scars,” Gon begins.

“Mm? Yeah, I do.”

Killua presses up closer to Gon’s side.

“Do you remember how you got all of them?”

“Not really. Just the particularly memorable ones.”

His tone is flippant and almost comedic, as if he expects Gon to laugh along at certain injuries being too awful to forget. Gon just pulls him tighter.

“How are you feeling?” Gon asks, suddenly not wanting to see where the previous conversation might lead.

“Better, I think. I’m feeling kinda sleepy.”

“That’s good, right? You said you usually don’t fall back asleep.”

“Yeah,” Killua murmurs. “I guess it is.”

“You can fall asleep now. I’ll be right here. So you’ll be safe.”

As Killua hums in acknowledgement and presses tighter to Gon’s side, it takes every ounce of Gon’s self control to resist pressing a kiss to Killua’s hair. Even in the dark, even in this strange in-between space in which they’re not quite themselves, not quite real, that sort of thing most likely isn’t permitted.

Instead, Gon simply holds Killua tight and forces himself to stay awake until he’s certain Killua is asleep. It’s only once Killua’s breathing has become slow and even, once he’s limp and relaxed against Gon’s side, that Gon finally allows himself to fall asleep too.

* * *

Gon wakes the next morning to rich, buttery rays of sunshine streaming in through the window. He glances at the clock--it’s a bit past ten. Far later than either of them usually sleeps. And Killua is still curled up against Gon’s side, mouth just slightly open, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks, expression wholly peaceful and content. Waking up to Killua beside him makes Gon’s chest clench in a way that’s equal parts tender and exhilarated. Gon allows himself to play make-believe like he did last night, imagine he is Killua’s and Killua is his and they wake up in each other’s arms every day. The fantasy carries him out of bed and into the bathroom, then into the kitchen where he starts fixing breakfast. He fries up eggs and makes toast and slices fruit, pretending he gets to do this every day, that Killua will stumble bleary-eyed into the kitchen and press a kiss to Gon’s cheek as he gratefully accepts the mug of coffee Gon offers him, black with sugar, just how he likes. It’s a ridiculous fantasy, of course, but somehow beautiful all the same.

With near-perfect timing, Killua enters the kitchen just as Gon’s sliding the eggs onto a plate. He hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, so he’s still in that baggy, faded t-shirt from last night and the ragged shorts and everything about him looks so soft and sleepy and delicate that Gon just wants to gather him up in his arms and kiss him over and over and over.

“I made breakfast!” Gon chirps, trying desperately not to dwell on how it would feel to press his lips to the spot just behind Killua’s ear.

“Thanks,” Killua replies, rubbing at his eye with his fist.

Gon sets down the plate in front of Killua, eggs and two pieces of toast with apricot jam and cubes of melon, and the coffee too. All of it just how Killua likes. Killua accepts it gratefully and begins eating. Gon tries not to stare too blatantly, but he always loves watching Killua eat something he made, loves giving him something he can enjoy.

“Is it good?” Gon asks, unable to resist.

“Yeah, really good. Thanks,” Killua replies, reaching for his coffee.

“And last night,” Gon continues, “that was good too?”

Killua chokes on his mouthful of coffee, coughing and only narrowly avoiding spitting it all over the table.

“ _ Gon,”  _ he hisses, as soon as he’s regained composure. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Like what?”

Killua sighs.

“Whatever, never mind.” Killua takes another sip of coffee, cheeks inexplicably red. “But yeah, it was… you know… I mean, it was better. Than it usually is. Last night went better.”

Gon can’t help the enormous grin that blooms on his face. He helped. He eased Killua’s pain and made him feel safe and protected and got him to fall back asleep again. Making Killua happy is easily the most satisfying thing Gon ever does.

“Stop smiling like an idiot,” Killua snaps. Gon isn’t deterred in the slightest.

“So we’re gonna do it again, right? Sleep together, I mean.”

Killua goes an even darker shade of red and grips his mug so hard Gon worries he might shatter it.

“If, and only if, you stop saying things like that, I will maybe,  _ potentially _ consider doing it again.”

Somehow, Gon’s smile grows even wider.

But despite his initial happiness, Gon can’t help the slight ache that twinges in his chest as they finish breakfast. This whole imagined life, the one in which he kisses Killua good night, the one in which he tells Killua every day how beautiful he is, the one in which Killua rests his head in Gon’s lap and lets him play with his hair as they watch TV, all of it is closer than it’s ever been. And yet, despite it all, despite holding Killua last night, it will never be. Not really, not in this world. In this world, the real one, Killua doesn’t love Gon the way Gon loves him. He doesn’t have the first reason to, and all of it, all Gon’s fantasizing and dreaming is just that. A fantasy. And Gon will simply have to learn how to content himself with this world, with “almost” and “not quite” and “in another life” and “make believe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr is in the last ch's notes. other than that, the usual--infinite love & gratitude for reading, replying to comments. xo


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, i had more or less abandoned this fic, but i got a few very nice comments in the past couple of days that motivated me to go back to it. thank you all so much for your encouragement. you're the reason this got written.
> 
> warning for vague discussions of trauma/torture/abuse from killua's past. as usual, i keep everything very general and abstract, but just know it's there.
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!!!

Killua eases into their routine. It’s a slow and careful thing, but it happens nonetheless. Over time, he stops hesitating so much before he gets into bed with Gon. The stiffness in his body as they lie beside each other slowly melts away. By three weeks in, he’s telling Gon good night and turning off the lights with such ease that Gon would think they’d done this for years. And at night, when he wakes up trembling and sweating and panting, he reaches out to Gon on instinct, clinging to him with hardly a moment’s pause.

Gon loves it. Loves it far more than he should, if he’s being honest. It’s wrong for him to get such a thrill out of Killua wrapped in his arms, head resting on his chest, body warm and solid and so very close. It’s horrible that Gon finds himself half-wishing Killua will wake up with a nightmare tonight just to have a chance to hold him for a while. Shame isn’t a familiar feeling to him, but he burns with it now, with how blatantly and selfishly he finds himself enjoying Killua’s pain.

But perhaps he wouldn’t find himself treasuring these nights, the nights Killua actually permits Gon to hold him and touch him and stroke his hair, if it weren’t for the two extremely important rules.

It’s taken a while for Gon to puzzle them both out, but Killua enforces them strictly enough that Gon understands.

Rule 1: They don’t discuss the sleeping arrangement.

Gon’s finally stopped trying to broach the subject, given that he’s only ever met with a withering glare and a caustic remark when he does. No asking if Killua’s feeling okay in the morning. No remarking on the fact that he’s slept through the night four days in a row. Not even a mention of when they should change the bedsheets. No talking about it under any set of circumstances.

Rule 2: He doesn’t touch Killua except after a nightmare

This one’s the harder of the two, but Gon forces himself to abide by it. He tried on a few occasions to rest his head on Killua’s shoulder or put his feet in his lap or stroke down Killua’s spine the way Gon knows he likes, and each time Killua had leapt back as if he’d been burned. Gon aches with it, with his desire to take Killua’s hand or play with his hair, but Killua’s message is perfectly clear. Affection is a necessary evil. It’s what it takes to get him back to sleep at night, fine, but it’s not something he wants. He quite clearly can’t stand Gon touching him unless absolutely required.

(And yes, of course it’s painful. Yes, of course Gon sometimes wants to scream with how desperately he wants Killua and how little Killua wants him. But he does his utmost to respect it. He’d die sooner than cross a boundary with Killua.)

So Gon continues to long selfishly for Killua to wake up in the middle of the night and throw himself into Gon’s arms. And he continues to hate himself for it.

* * *

It’s especially bad tonight.

Killua tosses and turns and his breath comes in panicked stutters. He makes a desperate, agonized whining sound, far worse than usual. So the moment Gon comes to his senses, he reaches out a hand to Killua’s shoulder, slowly and gently, to wake him.

“Killua,” he says softly, “Wake up.”

He gives Killua’s shoulder a light squeeze and Killua jolts awake, eyes wide and haunted and darting around the room, before pushing himself into the far corner of the bed. It’s odd. Normally he’d be in Gon’s arms in an instant, but tonight he holds his knees to his chest and keeps his distance, as if Gon had something contagious.

“Hey,” Gon says softly. “It’s just me, okay? You’re safe.”

The haunted look in Killua’s eyes doesn’t fade at Gon’s reassurances like it usually does.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Gon tries.

Killua sucks in a deep breath.

“Am I a bad person?” he asks, his voice shaking.

“What? Of course not! Killua, you’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

Killua trembles quite visibly.

“You didn’t know me before,” he says. “You don’t know any of the thousand horrible things I did. If you really knew what I’d done, I don’t think you’d say that. I don’t think you could even stand to be in the same room as me.”

Gon reaches his hand out to place on Killua’s knee, but Killua pulls away. Gon quickly brings his hands back in his lap, resolving to do all of this entirely on Killua’s terms.

“What was it about this time?” Gon asks softly.

Killua stiffens and chews his lower lip for a long moment.

“She was young. Maybe fifteen. And she was so frightened.” Killua’s speech is slow and stilted. “I don’t know why someone wanted her dead. They never told me stuff like that. But she was begging and crying and I killed her anyway. She begged me not to do it but I did. It was bloody and awful and it was all because of me. So, knowing that, am I a bad person?”

“No, Killua.” Gon’s voice is firm. “Absolutely not. They made you. You didn’t have a choice.”

Killua shakes his head stiffly.

“There’s always a choice, Gon. Always. I stopped once. I was eight and I said I’d had enough. I was finished. I wasn’t going to kill anyone anymore. But they wouldn’t let me. They...”

Killua pauses, taking in a deep breath.

“No, I’m not gonna tell you what happened. I don’t want to upset you. But it hurt. That’s all you need to know. It hurt. And there was hardly ever a break from it. And I tried so hard not to give in.” Killua’s voice gets higher and shakier and Gon wants so badly to gather Killua up in his arms and hold him tight. But he manages to restrain himself. Killua’s terms, he reminds himself. 

“Gon, I swear I really did try. Please know that. Please know that I tried as hard as I could. But I hardly lasted seven weeks before I gave up. I gave up and I started killing again. And any time I hesitated, any time they were crying and frightened and I didn’t want to kill them, my family would remind me. They’d remind me of what they’d done and that they could do it again. And every time they did, I gave in and did what they asked. Every single time, Gon. People died. Dozens, maybe hundreds. People died just so I could spare myself some pain. There’s nothing in the world more selfish than that.”

For a long moment, Gon is speechless. The urge to hold Killua, to kiss his hair and rub his back and wrap him tight in his arms, is stronger than ever, but again, Gon restrains himself. Killua’s terms.

“Killua, you were a  _ child _ ,” Gon says, slow and disbelieving. “You were eight years old. And you were  _ tortured _ . You won’t even tell me what was done to you. That’s how awful it was, right? And you lasted _ seven weeks.  _ You were subjected to unending, unbearable pain. Most adults wouldn’t last an hour. But you were a child and you lasted seven weeks. You lasted because of how badly you didn’t want to hurt anyone. You lasted seven agonizing weeks on that conviction alone. How is that anything short of amazing?”

There’s the faintest shimmer down Killua’s cheeks. He’s crying.

“Pain like that, it warps your mind. You forget, kind of. You forget that there’s anything other than pain or the relief from pain. If they were going to kill me, it would’ve been okay. There would be an end to it. I would have died if it meant I didn’t have to hurt anyone anymore. But they weren’t going to. They were smart. They knew how to keep someone alive enough to hurt them. And it hit me all at once, I guess. Every day of my life would be like that. Every day would keep hurting and hurting until I did what they asked. I’d like to think that if I were in my right mind, I wouldn’t have given in. I try to tell myself that, that if I weren’t so warped by the pain, I would’ve made the right choice. But I didn’t. I just wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t good enough.”

Gon’s crying too by the time Killua’s done speaking. He feels sick to his stomach, acid rising in the back of his throat.

“Killua, listen to me,” he says, tone fierce and desperate. “That’s your family talking, okay? That’s what they want you to keep believing. They want you to think it was your fault. I guess our perspectives are just different. I know you grew up being poisoned and electrocuted and God knows what else, so you think that’s normal. But no one in their right mind would look at a child still young enough to be in elementary school and say it was his fault that he gave in after weeks and weeks of being tortured. That’s not normal. Normal people don’t torture children, Killua. Normal people don’t blame a kid for just wanting the pain to stop.”

Killua is very still and very quiet. Gon isn’t sure he even breathes.

“If I touch you, would that make it better or worse?”

Killua gazes at the bedsheets, head bowed.

“Gon, I don’t really think I--”

“No,” Gon interrupts. “Don’t even dream of saying you don’t deserve that.”

Killua nods, and then slowly moves toward Gon, as if unsure if Gon will suddenly change his mind.

Gon pulls Killua into his arms and holds him tight. The tension melts out of Killua slowly, relaxing moment by moment against Gon’s side.

And finally the impulse is just too strong and Gon presses a kiss to the top of Killua’s head. Killua gasps quietly. But it isn’t the bad sort of gasp.

“Let me sing to you, okay?” Gon says. “It helps, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Killua whispers. “Okay.”

Gon doesn’t have a beautiful singing voice by any standard. His voice tends to get hoarse and a bit breathy and he can never quite hit those lower notes. But it doesn’t matter. He holds Killua in his arms and sings him songs about first love. About missing a friend. About new beginnings. About coming home. When he runs out of songs, he simply makes them up, nonsensical lyrics that rarely rhyme and repeat themselves over and over. But eventually Killua’s breath slows and his body relaxes and he’s finally asleep.

Gon presses a final kiss to Killua’s hair before closing his eyes as well.

* * *

By the time Gon wakes up in the morning, Killua is gone. It’s no reason to worry--he may have simply stopped by the grocery store or taken a walk or gotten a cup of coffee. Gon sets to work fixing breakfast for the two of them. He likes the thought of having it waiting for Killua the moment he comes in the door.

He’s nearly finished with the pancakes when the lock turns and the door opens. And there’s Killua, panting hard and sweating, cheeks flushed.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks.

“Yeah,” Killua says. “Just went for a run.”

“Can I get you some water?” Gon offers.

A strange look passes over Killua’s face.

“No, I’m alright. Thanks.”

Killua sits at the table, back straight as a toy soldier, as Gon finishes with the pancakes. He brings a plate of them to Killua along with the bottle of maple syrup. He finds it oddly satisfying to set the plate down in front of him.

Killua doesn’t pick up his knife and fork right away. Just sits, staring at the pancakes with unusual intensity.

“Are you okay?” Gon asks. “Is this about--”

“I don’t think we should do it anymore.”

Gon pauses, hoping desperately Killua doesn’t mean what he thinks he means.

“The whole sleeping arrangement,” he continues. “I don’t think it’s a good idea anymore.”

Gon’s never experienced anything like it, but the color quite suddenly drains from the room. All at once, the hues become muted and fuzzy. His heart sinks low into his stomach.

“Can I ask why?” Gon says, doing his utmost to keep his voice steady.

“No real reason,” Killua says, with forced nonchalance. “I just don’t think we should.”

Gon goes weak and shaky and jittery. He feels like a cornered animal. A captured prisoner.

“Did I do something wrong?” It comes out far more desperate than he intended.

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just don’t think we should anymore. It’s no big deal.”

“Okay,” Gon says, wondering why his throat is suddenly so painfully tight.

“Okay,” Killua says. He gets up from the table and heads to the bedroom, leaving Gon alone, staring at the bottle of maple syrup.

The plate of pancakes sits untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry......
> 
> i promise there's a happy ending in store!!!!!!
> 
> as usual, grateful that you read this, replying to comments, available to scream about killugon via [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/). xo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> genuinely do not know what came over me tonight but i was like "if i don't get this ch written today i'm gonna DIE" & so i spent 4.5 hours writing like an absolute lunatic. hence 2 chapters in 2 days. i'm very tired now.
> 
> pls enjoy our thrilling conclusion & promised happy ending!!!!!!

Gon sits perfectly still at the kitchen table as the room spins violently around him.

He ruined it. Somehow, he managed to ruin it.

He must’ve gone too far somehow. The kiss he pressed to Killua’s hair must have crossed such a boundary that Killua called the whole thing off.

Or perhaps Killua simply reached a point at which the costs overtook the benefits. Perhaps he’d rather endure the nightmares alone that have to subject himself to Gon’s affection.

Or perhaps Gon’s feelings became apparent. What if Killua knows? What if he knows and the whole thing is so deeply repulsive to him that he can’t bear to sleep beside Gon anymore?

Whatever Gon did, it was wrong. So unforgivably wrong.

Gon’s body feels so heavy that it’s almost paralyzing. The thought of getting up from the table is an insurmountable obstacle. He just wants to stay immoblie, sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, for eternity.

But for as sluggish his body feels, his thoughts race, chasing each other in dizzying spirals. All the things he must’ve done wrong. All the ways he must not be good enough for Killua. Around and around, the circles becoming tighter and faster until he can hardly track their movement anymore.

He won’t get to hold Killua anymore. The thought shouldn’t be as devastating as it is. Gon knew, somewhere, that he was really only on borrowed time. He knew touching Killua was a temporary indulgence, just a brief, passing bliss. He knew, and yet it hits like a blow to the throat, the thought of never getting to touch him again.

Gon doesn’t know how long he sits at the table. He simply waits until the profound heaviness in his limbs finally abates and he’s able to move again. When he does get up, his movements are slow and robotic, each requiring an explicit command. Stand up. Push in the chair. Go to the cabinet. Get a tupperware. Place the pancakes inside of it. Take the pancakes and maple syrup to the refrigerator. Set them on the shelf. Close the door. His racing thoughts have slowed into nothing but simple imperatives.

Gon stands for several moments in the middle of the kitchen, arms hanging limply at his sides. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Nothing sounds enjoyable besides falling asleep for the remainder of the day. For the remainder of the week. But he’s far too distressed to sleep now. He needs a distraction. Perhaps a video game. That might help. Might occupy his mind for a while. He takes slow, purposeful steps into the living room and turns on the television. Picks up the controller. Sits down.

And after a while, it does help. He manages to focus on the simple combat mechanics enough to quiet the tangled, chaotic knot pressing hard against his chest. After a while, he calms himself. After a while, he feels nothing but a gaping but bearable emptiness.

Gon does his utmost to avoid Killua for the rest of the day. The apartment is small, but with enough patience and strategy, he manages to evade him most of the time. When they do interact, Killua is casual and nonchalant. Of course he is; of course ending the arrangement between them brings him nothing but relief. Gon does his best to match the neutral tone, does his best to pretend nothing’s wrong. After each time they speak, Gon feels a bit like he may vomit.

Gon waits until well after Killua’s fallen asleep before going to bed himself. He isn’t sure he could bear the two of them each getting into their separate beds, bidding each other goodnight and turning off the light as if nothing is wrong. So he stays up until his eyes feel gritty and dry before at last heading to their room.

The bed is so cold without two bodies warming it. And it’s far too big. Everything about it, about sleeping without Killua besides him, is so deeply, eerily wrong.

And when Gon wakes a few hours later to Killua tossing and crying out in his sleep, that’s wrong too. It’s wrong that Gon listens to him thrash about and whine, so clearly distressed, without gently waking him. It’s wrong that Killua wakes up shuddering and gasping and Gon isn’t there to gather him up in his arms and soothe him back to sleep. It’s wrong that Killua cries, deep, hitching sobs that must be shaking his whole frame, alone in the dark, and that Gon lies immobile in bed, entirely ignoring it.

It’s maddening. Gon could make it better. He could stroke Killua’s back just how he likes and murmur reassurances and hold him until he’s calm again. But Killua would rather have this, crying alone in the dark, desperately gasping for air between sobs, than bear Gon touching him. 

When Gon wakes the next morning, when he finds Killua sitting at the kitchen table, circles beneath his eyes dark as bruises, when Killua pours himself a fourth cup of coffee, it really sinks in. That’s how deeply he despises Gon’s affection. This option is the less unpleasant of the two.

* * *

It gets easier.

Well, perhaps it doesn’t. But it gets familiar. Gon grows accustomed to waking to Killua crying in the middle of the night. He gets used to Killua looking sickly and pale more mornings than not. He adjusts to keeping his distance from Killua so as not to accidentally touch him and makes things worse.

Their friendship finds its footing again. They laugh and joke and goad each other into pointless competitions. If it weren’t for the strange tension hovering around their every interaction, if it weren’t for the ache in Gon’s chest when he listens to Killua cry alone at night, it would be just like old times.

It gets familiar, so when Gon wakes a few weeks later to Killua’s anguished whimpering in his sleep, he knows what to do next. Keep his eyes shut. Ensure his breathing stays slow and even. Clench his hands into fists beneath the blanket and listen to Killua cry and don’t dare go to him.

Except that tonight, Killua wakes up with a sound halfway between a gasp and a cry and starts to cry his guts out. It’s different than usual. It’s worse. Usually Killua can manage to keep his sobs quiet, but he fails at it entirely tonight, crying desperately until the sound becomes muffled and Gon imagines he must be holding a pillow to his face. And then his breathing gets fast and shallow and panicked and Gon just prays he’ll calm down so he won’t be forced to listen to this any longer.

But Killua doesn’t calm down. His breath starts to come in desperate pants and Gon is certain that he’s hyperventilating now. It sounds like he’s drowning. Like he’s losing his mind.

And finally Gon just can’t. He can’t lie there and listen to Killua struggle to breathe just a few feet away. Yes, perhaps it’s selfish. Killua doesn’t want his comfort and here Gon is, forcing it on him simply to ease his own pain. But Gon has a limit somewhere too. A point where it does get to be too much.

So Gon pulls back the blanket and sets his feet on the ground with a determined, soft thud.

“Killua?”

“I--I--I--I’m--I’m” Killua can’t stop his frantic breaths long enough to get the words out.

And so Gon is beside him in an instant, sitting on the bed. And Killua all but throws himself into Gon’s arms, clinging to him for dear life. Gon holds Killua’s small, trembling body tight against his chest.

“Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here.”

Gon rubs soothing circles on Killua’s back and Killua shudders and relaxes and finally gets a good breath.

Gon’s certain he’s crossing so many boundaries, certain Killua will be furious in the morning. But he doesn’t dwell on any of that right now. All he thinks is that this is right. This is good. Gon’s helping. He’s making Killua feel better. This is how things are meant to be.

Killua calms surprisingly quickly. Gon holds him for only a few minutes before his breathing slows and his body relaxes. It makes Gon feel warm all over, how the affection, unwanted though it may be, made a difference.

Eventually, Killua pulls back and wipes at his eyes. He keeps his gaze cast very deliberately downward, refusing to meet Gon’s eyes.

And all at once, the warm feeling is gone. He’s just made Killua feel uncomfortable again. As usual, he’s barreled headfirst into a situation without any thought beyond what he wanted in the moment. Killua must hate him for it.

“I’m sorry,” Gon says, standing, guilt already beginning to churn in his stomach. “I’ll just… I’ll go.”

In an instant, Killua’s hand is wrapped around Gon’s wrist, holding tight.

“No,” he says softly, still not meeting Gon’s eyes. “Could you… stay with me?”

Gon feels utterly weightless, full of nothing but warm, buoyant air. Killua wants him to stay. It’s all he can think. Killua wants him to stay.

“Yes,” Gon says, sounding far more reverent than he intends. “Of course.”

* * *

Gon wakes with Killua in his arms.

He should get up. He should get out bed before Killua wakes up too and he’s forced to be held by Gon for even longer. He should go to the kitchen before the inevitable conversation occurs, the one where Killua says he appreciated the gesture, really, but he’d rather Gon not intervene in the future. He’d rather Gon refrain from touching him.

But Gon can’t. He can’t just walk away when he has Killua with an arm slung over Gon’s middle and his head pillowed on Gon’s shoulder, warm and soft and so gut-wrenchingly beautiful.

So Gon lies there for well over half an hour, reveling in Killua’s body pressed to his, in the even rise and fall of his ribcage, before Killua sighs deeply and opens his eyes.

For a moment, it’s perfect. For a moment, Killua blinks blearily up at Gon and his whole expression softens into something close to bliss. But it only lasts a moment before Killua’s eyes widen in horror and he leaps away from Gon, sitting on the far corner of the bed. As far away as he can get. The heartbreak knocks the wind out of Gon.

“I’m sorry,” he says, refusing to meet Killua’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. What happened last night was wrong of me. I know you can’t stand it when I touch you and I didn’t respect that. I swear it won’t happen again.”

“What?”

Gon sighs.

“It’s just that it sounded so awful. And I couldn’t bear it, just lying there and listening to you struggling to breathe. But it was selfish. I put my needs before yours like I always do. I swear on my life I won’t do it again. Maybe I should sleep on the couch from now on. That’ll help. So I don’t end up doing something like that again.”

“Gon,” Killua says slowly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a big couch. I’d be perfectly comfortable. So I--”

“No. The part about me. The part about how I don’t like it. When you, you know. That part.”

He can’t even bring himself to say it. Gon feels sick.

“You’ve done everything right, Killua. You set a boundary. You weren’t unkind about it. You were perfectly clear. And I just didn’t listen. And I’m so sorry.”

Killua scrubs a hand down his face and sighs.

“Gon, you are so clueless that it hurts.”

“I know,” Gon says, wishing he could shrink smaller and smaller until he simply disappeared. “And it won’t happen again. I’ll--”

“No. Not about that. You’ve got it wrong. I don’t dislike it. I don’t hate it. Not at all.”

Gon’s very still and quiet for a moment.

“You… don’t?”

“No. Not even close. So don’t go feeling guilty about what happened.”

Gon feels as if he’s in the middle of a scene for which he wasn’t provided a script. Nothing about the conversation makes sense.

“So why’d you ask me to stop?”

Something akin to terror flashes in Killua’s eyes.

“It’s complicated.”

“Can you try to explain it to me?” Gon asks. “It’s been really hard, these past few weeks. Hearing you crying at night. Please, I just want to understand. Whatever your reasoning, I won’t question the decision. I promise. I just want to understand.”

Killua sighs, sounding so utterly defeated and exhausted that Gon aches for him.

“That’s the thing, Gon. This is what you do. You’re so kind. You’re so  _ good.  _ It shouldn’t be possible for someone to be that good, but you’ve been proving me wrong on pretty much everything since the day we met. And so you heard me struggling and you wanted to help. Because that’s who you are. You just wanted to help me. And I was… I was taking advantage of it. So I had to stop. I meant it when I said you didn’t do anything wrong. This was my doing, completely and totally. Just like always.”

Gon wants to cradle Killua’s face. He wants to gently graze his knuckles down his cheek. He wants to take his hand. But he restrains himself. He won’t, not until he at least understands.

“How were you taking advantage of it? Killua, that doesn’t even make any sense.”

Killua looks away from Gon, staring determinedly at the bedsheets, his face flushing red.

“I don’t really want to get into that part of it.”

“But Killua, you’re just talking nonsense. There’s no way in the world you could take advantage of something like that.”

“I just… I just ended up liking it too much,” Killua says, cryptically.

“I liked it too!” Gon insists. “What’s the problem here?”

Killua looks back at Gon, his gaze intense.

“Yeah, but for different reasons! You liked it because you’re a good person and you like to help your friends. I liked it for other reasons. Can we leave it at that?”

All the blood rushes to Gon’s head at once. Killua can’t possibly mean it like that. He can’t possibly mean it the way Gon does. But that faint flicker of hope is all it takes for Gon’s heart to start pounding. And in a singular dizzying rush, the adrenaline overwhelms his reason.

“I liked it for other reasons too, Killua! I liked it because I like  _ you!” _

As soon as he says it, Gon wishes he could take it back. His breath goes shallow. The silence rings in his ears.

Killua’s eyes go very wide and he sucks in a sharp breath. There, that’s it. Gon’s outright horrified him. So much for repairing their relationship. So much for Killua ever letting Gon touch him again. For a long moment, Killua’s quiet.

“You… I… You too?”

“What?”

Killua tosses his head back and laughs.

“We’re so stupid. Why are we so stupid?”

“Killua, what are you talking about?”

Something flashes in Killua’s eyes. A kind of knee-buckling, stomach-churning desire. And all at once, he’s grabbed Gon’s t-shirt hard in his fists and is kissing him.

Killua’s so  _ warm _ . His mouth is so  _ soft _ . Gon thought he knew warmth and softness before, but clearly he didn’t have the first idea. They’ve never made his heart pound like this. They’ve never flooded his gut with a strange, exhilarating heat. They’ve never left him so achingly desperate for  _ more.  _ This is warmth and softness of a whole new intensity. This is feeling them for the very first time.

But just as Gon’s about to thread his fingers in Killua’s hair and pull him down harder, Killua pulls back. His pupils are blown wide and his cheeks are red and he’s panting. He looks almost feral, but in the breathtaking way that wild animals are.

It takes quite some time for Gon to come back to his senses. For a few long moments, he’s unsure of his own name.

“So let me get this straight,” he says, just as soon as he can think again. “You called things off because you liked me? And you thought that was somehow wrong?”

Killua gets somehow redder.

“When you put it like that, it sounds really stupid.”

Gon grabs a pillow and whacks Killua in the head with it.

“That’s because it is! As if I don’t tell you all the time how incredible I think you are!”

“Yeah, but that’s just you, Gon. You’re like that about everything.”

Gon lays down the pillow and grips Killua’s hands in his own, looking right into his eyes.

“No. Only you. It’s only ever been you. And it’ll only ever be you.”

Impossibly, Killua’s pupils blow wider, and all at once his mouth is against Gon’s again. It started as warmth and softness, but now it’s utter desperation, kissing Gon as if he’d die if he did anything else. Gon grabs Killua and pulls him into his lap, wrapping Killua tight is his arms as he kisses him.

And so it ends how it began. With Killua in Gon’s arms. With Killua, warm and solid, held close to Gon’s chest. With Killua, so indescribably perfect Gon feels he may burst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so very much for reading, my friends <3
> 
> feel free to drop a comment or say hi on [tumblr](https://storybookprincess.tumblr.com/). xo


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